


Maybe I'll start paying you overtime!

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran is a gent, Dressed Up, F/M, Going out, Implied naughtiness!, Pre-Relationship, Robin demonstrates her self defence skills, Robin doing a favour for Wardle, Robin invites Cormoran in, Snogging, Wardle interrupts, bit of a knuckle shuffle in the office for Strike, implied blow job!, jealous Strike, there is a definite moment!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: Robin is assisting Wardle entrap a senior member of the Met which involves attending a rather posh do.Cormoran isn't keen....but he isn't jealous....honest!Robin demonstrates how she can still use her self defence skills in her killer outfit....provoking quite a reaction between them, until Wardle turns up.Naturally Robin gets her guy......and then decides to go and get the other one, who as usual is drinking in the Tottenham.He walks her home and.......dot,dot,dot!





	Maybe I'll start paying you overtime!

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of right on the edge of M and E rating - but I've read far more explicit stuff posted as a Teen and Up....so I have gone with M!

“Why exactly did you agree to this?” Strike demanded, sipping on the dregs of a mug of tea in the outer office whilst Robin thumped and shuffled about in his own office.

She’d been in there for the best part of half an hour, he’d heard various zips, squirty bottle sounds, rummaging in a vinyl holdall, the tip tap of stilettos and at least two hot air dryer sounds, as well as a couple of mumbled “Bugger!” s.

“’ecause War’gle a’ked,” he heard, implying that Robin was doing something involving her mouth whilst hidden from him.   
Part of him had agreed to her changing in his office because he knew she would spray some perfume across herself….and it would linger nicely in there…..and he mentally punched himself for being so sleazy…but he couldn’t help it!

Robin had been asked to help Wardle out; actually to help the Met out.   
There was a high up commissioner and several women had threatened to go public on his inappropriate behaviour, which had all been settled out of court….but Wardle had been asked by higher powers in the Met to try to find any evidence of truth in the cases.   
There had been 4 now, and it was starting to become an issue as qualified female officers were being trained and then following a court case shipped off to roles elsewhere. If nothing else the Met was losing highly qualified and talented staff and he wanted to see if he could fix it.  
He had approached Robin, in front of Strike, and asked whether she would accompany him and try to find anything out – being a relatively ‘unknown’ at the posh awards dinner might give her better leverage; she’d be able to hang around in the ladies loo and find out if anyone was willing to talk about the commissioner, find out if he had tried anything on at the dinner…..and of course run the risk of him trying it on with her!

A few moments later, Strike was rinsing his mug as the office door opened and she sauntered across to her own desk, picking up the ridiculously small, satin bag and somehow managing to slot her phone, keys and lipstick inside.  
Strike stood slightly open mouthed, but relieved at her back view.   
She appeared to be wearing a pair of deep navy coloured trousers…..trousers were work Robin…..it was work….therefore he had no reason to be jealous of the fact that Wardle would be accompanying her in her finery rather than him….’cos she was wearing a pair of trousers…............although her arse looked stunning!

She straightened up and he pursed his lips slightly….the top half of the trousers appeared not to have a back, and a very large portion of her creamy, slightly freckled skin was on display, especially as her hair was swept up onto her head in a collection of loose curls.  
She was attaching small, sparkly earrings with her head slightly tilted and as she finished and stood up his pursed lips became attached to a pair of puffed out cheeks and eyebrows which were attempting to blend into his ruffled hair.

This was definitely not a ‘Work Robin’ trouser outfit!

Her outfit fastened around her neck in a halter style, plunging low at the front, which begged the question to Strike’s investigative mind of how the hell her tits would manage to stay beneath the fabric, although a soft, rounded cleft of each was exposed centrally on her chest.   
The trousers which had seemed so demure and business-like from the rear had a completely different image from the front.  
Each wide leg of fluid fabric was split to the mid thigh, exposing her elegant, long, pale legs and displaying a pair of incredibly sexy, strappy heeled sandals; showing off dainty, deep blue painted toenails.

“Wardle should be here in a bit,” she stated, perching a little self consciously on the edge of her desk.  
She had been pleased with Strike’s reaction to her appearance….a silent eyebrow raise was a about as close as it got to a full blown compliment….if he’d added a ‘Yeah!’ it would have been on a par with his reaction to that green dress!

Strike composed his features slightly and wandered back into his office so that he could smoke…..she’d said she didn’t mind, but he still preferred to keep her part of the office a non-smoking zone.  
He heard her clipped heels follow him through.

“What about if this slime ball tries something…..with you,” he gestured vaguely with his hand in her direction.  
Robin placed her hands on her hips, “I’ll be in a room full of police officers! I think I’ll be safe!” she quipped.  
“But, what if he gets…..handsy!” he added, his eyes roving up and down her incredibly sexy silhouette, drawing deeply on his nicotine fix.  
“I did a three day self defence course….you’ve seen the certificate!” she stated, pouting slightly, which caused further turmoil to Strike’s already unbalanced equilibrium.  
“You didn’t do it wearing…..that….” his hand and exhalation of smoke indicated her body from the floor up to her shining, amused eyes.  
She grinned her response, “I could still cope……don’t you believe me?”  
Strike looked slightly perturbed and flexed his neck slightly.

“ Would you feel happier if I demonstrated!” she quipped, coming closer to his desk, “Come on! Come towards me and try and do a Trump pussy grab,” she grinned, sucking in her cheeks and wiggling her shoulders slightly.

Strike didn’t want to focus on what that action was doing to her only marginally encased breasts, but saw her goading attitude and decided to throw caution to the wind…and actually he really would feel more comfortable if he knew that she’d be able to defend herself from a groping man in her outfit as well as she could in her usual work gear.

“OK! I’ll go along with it,” he placed his cigarette in the ashtray and moved around the desk to face her. “Right, I’m making a grab for you,” and he extended his hand casually in the generally direction of her crotch.  
Robin deftly caught his hand and twisted it over her shoulder, turning her own body to back into his bulk, pulling him slightly off balance and forwards, bringing his still clasped hand across her chest, where she transferred it to the other hand around his wrist, placed her teeth against his exposed forearm and flicked her long leg through the slit in her trousers and circled it around to tap against the back of his knee.

“See,” she calmly breathed, “I can bite you, palm you in the face with this hand,” she waggled it, “and take your legs from under you with this,” and nudged her heeled foot at his knee.  
She had ended up incredibly close to his body, her bare back pressing against the buttons of his shirt, his strong arm wrapped across her chest, and her foot now sliding slightly up and down his left calf. She realised she was still grasping his wrist quite firmly; she could smell his spicy after shave at this proximity, and could also see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and inhaled deeply.

Strike hadn’t imagined that she would be able to demonstrate so effectively, and sexily, how she would deal with unwanted attention….but Jesus Christ!

She was pressing against his torso, he knew that her bare skin was against the front of his shirt.   
Her teeth pressing onto his forearm, although briefly, had left a clear lipstick smudge from her make up, and her breath now was hot and quite frankly as sexy as fuck against his neck.   
Glancing down he was thankful that his arm slung across her chest and grasped at the wrist blocked the view down the deep chasm of her outfit, but her shapely leg, which was curled around his full limb was powerfully erotic……especially as the narrow, heeled shoe attached to it was now brushing and nudging slowly up and down his calf.

Fuck!

Shit!

She was doing that on purpose……she wasn’t demonstrating self defence anymore.

He swallowed hard, inhaled and brought his gaze down slightly and across to meet her languid, stormy eyes, the pupils of which were blown wide with arousal.  
He felt himself unable to prevent his free hand caressing the stretched fabric at the hip of her outfit, feeling her pant slightly as his fingers dug into her firm flesh and one finger stroke delicately and deliberately across the exposed skin on her thigh.

Shit…..his hand was on her hip.   
He’d put that there after…..and it was squeezing…..and fuck it was sexy.

She felt herself panting a little as she balanced on her right leg, 

“See,” she managed to whisper, “He’d be completely at my mercy,” she purred, here eyes not leaving his hooded green gaze of complete desire.

“Knock, knock!” Wardle’s knuckles rapped loudly and abruptly on the door, causing both Strike and Robin to leap back, Strike rubbing one hand across his beard making a raspy noise as Robin cleared her throat and felt the back of her hair.  
“I’ll just go and…..” she indicated her office and strode past a smirking Wardle to refresh her lipstick and check her hair had survived being so closely pressed against Strike.  
“Didn’t interrupt did I, Gooner?” Wardle quipped, raising his eyebrow lasciviously at Strike’s rolled eyes expression.  
He returned to his desk to inhale on his cigarette :  
“You know I don’t approve of this…..fuck knows why she agreed to do it!”  
“What?! After all the favours I do for you?!” Wardle stated.

He was wearing a smart, tight fitting suit in that shade of blue that seemed to be popular, he wore tan shoes, a slender, navy tie.   
He looked good….which of course Strike hated!

“Don’t be jealous….you can have her back on Monday!” he added.  
Strike huffed slightly, “I’m not jealous! ……just make sure she’s OK!”  
“Or what?”  
“Or…….I’ll……punch you so hard you’ll beg me to kick you....with my metal leg! Got it?!” and he stubbed out his cigarette as if signalling further irritation.  
“Duly noted! But….seriously……I’ll watch her like a hawk, OK?!” and Robin reappeared at the door to find the men eye balling each other in a manner that reminded her of stags in heat.

Strike listened as their footsteps descended the stairs and heard the door slam closed after them.  
He now had a Friday night to kill…..he sighed deeply and locked the office door, returning to his office, which still smelled of her.   
He wasn’t proud of himself, but there was no way he could go to the pub unless he did something about it, so he seated himself at his desk chair, unfastened his trousers and tried to remember exactly what her body had felt like next to his, exactly what her hip had felt like under his hand….and when his finger had skimmed against the exposed flesh of her thigh….and shit, she’d bitten his arm.   
He quickly changed hands around his straining erection and brought his forearm to his face, pressing his lips across the almost perfect lipstick mark from her mouth and teeth there earlier.  
He inhaled and found himself almost kissing his own arm, like a lovesick teenager, furiously wanking up into his own left fist.  
He came quickly and forcefully, hissing and throwing back his head as he spurted across his exposed thighs and boxers, lowering his forearm and noticing that it now had a red mark, which was now no longer made from softly scented lipstick.  
“You shameful piece of complete fuckery!” he expressed to himself aloud.  
He cleaned up with a handful of tissues and grabbed his cigarettes and phone before adding his topcoat and heading off to try and get his equilibrium back into balance with the help of several pints.

_____________

Several hours later, Robin and Wardle were talking and congratulating each other warmly.   
Wardle had introduced Robin to his superior and she had passed on the information she had gathered.   
In the loo she had overheard two women talking about the sleezy commissioner and after explaining her role there that evening had convinced them to speak to Wardle and his superior.   
She had also agreed to place herself in a slightly vulnerable position; with Wardle close by and filming the whole thing; and like a complete tit the commissioner had fallen for it, meaning that Wardle had proof; albeit proof that could not be used in court, but enough to make the man reconsider his position.   
The recording had Robin very clearly stating she did not want any attention, then hands groping her arse, then Robin very clearly removing them and stating louder, “I said no thank you. Please leave me alone.” Then the idiot had reached round and grabbed her tits, at which point Wardle had loudly intervened with a cheery, “Robin, there you are. Come and meet some people,” before steering her away and outside.  
Having reviewed the footage Wardle had been happy to leave and speak to his superior who was waiting in a café around the corner.   
Robin was warmly thanked by both, and her job done left them huddled over the footage and discussing matters with one of the Met lawyers over the phone.  
Wardle gave her a thumbs up and a cheery wave as she strode confidently from the café.

It was only 10 o’clock.

Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the evening, in Strike’s office.   
They had been sharing a definite moment before Wardle interrupted…..she hadn’t been imagining Strike’s hand on her hip, or the pad of his finger stroking her leg……and she definitely hadn’t imagined the warm moistness that had appeared in her rather fancy black lace knickers.

On her way towards the tube she decided that she wasn’t wasting decent lipstick and perfume on a couple of hours at a party where she had only consumed one small glass of Champagne.

Taking out her phone she texted Strike :  
R : Job done, success and brownie points with Wardle and the Met. Gagging for a drink….you around?  
The reply from Strike came almost immediately:  
C : Well bloody done! Tottenham….you coming?  
R : Get me a white wine……a large one!

In the pub Strike grinned and raised his eyebrow slightly, Robin drinking large glasses of wine was either a very good sign or a very bad one!

She located him easily in the pub; seated in one of their usual small tables, an empty and a partially drunk pint infront of him together with a fresh pint and a white wine.  
Cormoran felt rather smug as she crossed towards him, especially as several male eyes followed her progress.  
He noticed that she had released her hair from it’s more formal style and her hair now hung in a softly curled sheet or amber, partially covering the bare skin at her back when she removed her coat.

“I feel a bit overdressed!” she giggled as she adjusted the fabric of her trousers to provide a modicum of decorum rather than flash her legs to everyone in the pub. “It’s murder to go to the loo in too….have to strip off!” she smiled, and noticed Strike’s eyes glaze slightly and a slight shake to his neck before he replied.  
“Well, I’m glad you’re OK,” Strike smiled and raised his pint to her wine glass before she took a large sip.  
“You send me off to do way worse than that everyday!” she quipped.  
“Not looking like that though,” he replied, blushing slightly as he realised he had stated his thoughts out loud.  
Robin felt her own cheeks tinge with warmth as she sipped her wine and caressed the stem of the glass between her fingers.

“So, did this slimeball get handsy with you?” he asked, feeling that work was a safer topic to steer the conversation back to.  
Robin sniffed and nodded matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but Wardle was filming it and he stepped in at exactly the right moment….so we got enough proof, but the sleazy commissioner didn’t get what he was after! I’m fine,” she added as Strike’s eyes carefully observed to see if she was being completely honest.

“I never doubted it……doesn’t mean I have to enjoy the thought of you being groped by a stranger,” he stated softly, flicking his gaze between his pint and her lips.  
Robin took a further large gulp of the white wine in her hand, “Does that mean you could enjoy the thought of me being groped by someone who isn’t a stranger……..maybe someone I know….pretty well?”   
She hadn’t eaten anything other than a couple of tiny canape things, and Cormoran had followed her orders and bought her a large glass of wine, which she was working her way through quite swiftly…..on top of the Champagne…..

Strike however immediately jumped on her statement, flashing a narrow eyed glare, “Did Wardle try something with you? He’s fucking married! I’ll……..”  
Robin giggled, “Wardle? Why? Would you be jealous?!” she laughed, shifting her position on the seat and displaying her right leg through the split in her trousers.

Strike composed his face slightly and tried to drag his gaze from trailing along the exposed skin of her thigh, “I would not be jealous of him…..I’d be furious with him…..because I would expect him to take care of you….properly.”   
He took a long draught from his pint, emptying the partial glass and starting on the full pint…..he had noticed how quickly Robin was downing her wine too.

She wriggled in the seat and crossed one leg over the other, her sexily encased foot dangling alluringly in his line of sight, “Well, you needn’t punch him….Wardle was a complete gent!”  
Strike smirked back at her smiling face and shining eyes:  
“Not that perfect a gent……..I notice he didn’t walk you home!”

Robin blushed a little, “If he had walked me home I couldn’t have been here having a drink with you……” she trailed off, stroking her fingers against her glass and raising her eyes to meet his dark, crinkle sided ones from beneath her lashes.

Strike felt that moment again, that connection he’d felt just before Wardle walked in…..he’d fought every fibre of his body and sense, but fuck it……she looked like she wanted him as much as he wanted her…..he was an investigator…..it was his job to spot stuff like that.

“Well, remind me to thank him the next time I see him,” he whispered, lowering his eyes to his fingers, which were absently tracing through the condensation on the side of his glass.  
Robin lifted her own glass and swallowed the rest of the wine inside, “So……are you going to be a perfect gent then?”  
She was reaching for her coat but her eyes remained seductively trained on his.

He drank a large mouthful of his beer, leaving about a third in the glass she noticed, before standing and grabbing his own massive topcoat from where he had stashed it behind himself on the banquette seat.  
“Alright then…..I’ll take on the role,” he shrugged into his coat and held hers so that she could do the same before pushing open the door and following her from the familiar pub.

He mentally chastised himself……he would be a gent….he would walk her home……he would then return to his flat….alone….he would definitely be a partial gent….he would definitely walk her to her flat………..he might not get back to his flat though…….maybe…….

They strolled the short distance to Robin’s flat – she now lived in a tiny place that rivalled Strike’s for bijou inner London character chic.  
They hadn’t spoken.   
Strike had smoked two cigarettes and both had glanced into window reflections to catch sight of the other as they had walked, side by side along the still busy pavements of Soho.

He was thinking about being a perfect gentleman……but sadly the thoughts were not reaching much further than his brain….his lips longed to kiss her, his hands longed for her body and their walk was almost over.

“Fuck it!” he snarled, just before they reached the outer door to her building.   
He halted his stride and reached out to pull her towards him, engulfing her in his arms and kissing her firmly and insistently on the mouth.  
Robin was slightly startled, but almost immediately returned his kiss; the warmth and taste of his lips feeling so familiar and yet new.

Cormoran prolonged the kiss once it was clear that he had indeed judged Robin’s attraction correctly….he internally high-fived himself at his brilliant investigative powers as he swallowed a small whimper from Robin’s throat caused by him sliding his tongue against hers inside her blissful, sweet mouth.

He had moved his hands along her arms from where he had initially grasped her, and they were now resting on her waist, beneath her coat.   
His fingers rested against the soft skin of her bare back and his thumbs circled against her hipbones.

Robin felt herself sob as his tongue swirled into her mouth and she allowed her hands to splay against his back under his huge topcoat.   
His lips were so mesmerising, his aroma so masculine and his hands felt so safe and strong caressing her skin.

Eventually he pulled away, glancing self consciously around, as though remembering that they were still on a relatively busy London street.

“You see…..I knew you’d be defenceless if someone tried it on. That, Miss Ellacott, was a pathetic fighting back technique against attack!” he breathed huskily, nuzzling against her neck and inhaling the remnants of her subtle perfume.  
Robin felt her neck melting slightly on her shoulders, “Are you still claiming my choice of outfit affects my ability to accurately perform my self defence moves?” she groaned as she felt him bite down gently on a spot low down on her neck.  
“Definitely! You’ve never worn this outfit before….and I’ve never attacked you like this….so…….” and he trailed his mouth back to her mouth briefly, before pulling his face back and raising his eyebrows provocatively at her.

Robin was now past the point of giving a fuck….and that slight moistness in her knickers could now more accurately be described as wet as!

“I suppose it’s tricky to be thorough in any experiment without a control specimen,” Robin grinned against Strike’s bristly chin, feeling him snigger slightly back at her.  
“Yep…….erm…..there’s a fairly simple solution or course,” he rumbled, inhaling slightly as Robin followed his lead and allowed her tongue to explore his neck and earlobe.  
“mmmmmm, a solution which involves my choice of outfit?” she asked, now nuzzling into the soft, springy hair visible above the open buttons at the neck of his shirt.  
“Actually, a solution involving the removal of your choice of outfit……purely for scientific reasons of course,” he gasped, pressing his nose into her scalp as her warm tongue licked against his Adam’s apple.  
“I think we’d better be quite thorough in our investigations…..don’t want to cut corners….sets a bad example for business,” she purred, dragging herself away from him and walking the six or so paces to her building, glancing seductively over her shoulder, lower lip clasped between her teeth and smiling as Cormoran followed her…..both unwilling and unable to do anything else!

__________

At about 3am they found themselves covered in sweat, hair tousled and panting, all items of clothing and one prosthetic leg discarded in a trail leading the eight or so metres from Robin’s front door to her bed.

Strike clasped one hand to his rapidly beating heart, the other grasped at his unruly hair in a somewhat ridiculous attempt to try to focus his eyes.

Robin was slumped, across the mattress beside him, where she had collapsed and slid after they had shared a second, monumentally perfect orgasm, this time with her astride Cormoran’s thrusting hips rather than beneath them.

“I think we can safely say…..it isn’t the outfit’s fault!” she gasped, grabbing at his chest hair as if she was trying to prevent herself falling.

Strike grinned inanely, “Mmmmmmm……definitely not….think we have almost certainly proved that theory wrong,” he growled and grabbed at Robin to attack her neck and shoulders with animalistic, grunts and bites.  
Robin giggled and allowed him. “Does this still count as research work then?” she asked, squirming as she felt a warmth gush between her legs and moved to avoid the damp spot.  
Cormoran was only partially paying attention; he was still reeling from one of the most amazing nights of sex he’d ever experienced, “Mmmmm? What?” he groaned.

Robin leaned up on one elbow, her chin resting in her palm, gazing down at him with the most delightful rosy tinge to her cheeks, “I was just wondering…..if this is research…… whether I could claim it as overtime?” she beamed as he chuckled.  
“You don’t get paid overtime! I barely pay you proper time!” he smiled, kissing her as she bent to pepper his jaw with light, tender kisses.  
“What about if I claim time in lieu?” she asked, suggestively waggling her eyebrows and trailing her hand down his chest, past his indented belly button and further down to his now only semi erect cock.  
He groaned and felt a twitch as her hand began to stroke him back to full arousal.  
“Hmmmmmmm…..time in lieu?" he growled, "In bed?”   
She nodded and began to crawl down the bed trailing her teeth against his hip and looking up with darkly dilated eyes before licking her tongue across her lips and pursing her lips tantalisingly close to his now solid erection. With his eyes almost daring her on he snarled, “I might be willing to write that into your con….TRAAA- CT!”  
And with a deeply sensual groan, which he took as approval, she brought her lips slowly up from where they had slid and, from Strike’s point of view, began rather perfectly claiming back some hours!


End file.
